


Five Times Fox Showed His Humanity (And One Time He Tried But He Couldn't)

by Paragosm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ANGST IS COMING, Bleeding, Electrical burns, Fluff, Fox is Buir TM, Gen, Ice cream time, Implications of child abuse, OC death, Pain, Palpatine is awful but we already knew that, Parkour, Tags Subject to Change, The guard speak copious mando'a, adopting kids, brief non-graphic nudity, did i mention how much i love bail, hurt/comfort is coming too, implications of sexual assault and harassment, mando'a usage, mute character, oh here's the angst and hurt/comfort, smols in danger, so much pain, space dogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paragosm/pseuds/Paragosm
Summary: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard is everything the other clone unites despise. He seems to be aloof in his seemingly cushy position as the right hand of the GAR, hanging off the arm of the Chancellor.But not everything is as it seems, in the end.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 48





	1. Who Let The Dogs Out?

Commander Fox strutted down the halls of the barracks, a small child tucked against his chest with a sling. His curly hair fell over his face, the Guard red dye in the ginger, white streaked locks fading. His good eye stared at datapads and reports, the bad eye, affected by whatever had happened to give him the massive electrical burn scars up and down the right side of his body, went off to the side slightly.    
  
He was joined soon by a group of massifs running into the hallway, howling, and jumping on him, massive reptilian feet slamming against his hips in an effort to gain attention and be given treats. He sighed, lifting his wrist, balancing his helmet. “Hou’ika, your precious babies got out again.”    
  
The frazzled voice of the handler came from the coms. “I know, are they with you?” His footsteps and the clack of armor coming from the coms told him he was already on his way there. “Yes, they are right here.” “Oh, good! I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Bluebell, Harley, and Chili.” “I’m certain Rottie, Pittie, and Dobie would have your head if you let something happen to them too.” The Commander replied teasingly.    
  
“They would, but that would be the least of my concerns.” Hound said, switching off the com as he turns the corner, joined by Grizzer, who barks excitedly upon seeing the other Krill Nine units. The intricately tattooed face of the handler contorted slightly as he whistled for the ones hopping on Fox, waking the resting child who giggled sleepily and reached out for them.    
  
He clipped the leashes onto them, then fell into line beside Fox, holding the four in hand of excited reptocanines expertly. “Where are you headed, sir?” The sharp red tattoos covered his whole face, but didn’t obscure his kind eyes and easy smile, as he strutted to keep up with the massiffs. “To check on the ad’ike.” “Elek, Al’verde Fox. How are the kadala from the last gang raid?” “Ang’ika says they’re improving, Hou’ika.”    
  
Judge, the other medic for the group, gripes as he heads down the hallway, muttering something about statistical chances and risks in whatever operation was coming up. Hound, who was younger than most guessed at first site, snorted after he walked by. “Kaysh veman tayl’ud, Al’verde.” Fox huffed, and cuffed him over the back of his head. “Slanar, Ruus’alor Hound.” He said with a chuckle.    
  
“Tion’jar, Fo’buir?” He whined, sounding a lot like the canid type animals he favored in the moment. “Because I said so, ad’ika.” He pressed his forehead to his. “Remember, some chayaikar is good for you, from time to time. Take the massifs back to the kennels.” “Elek, Al’verde!” He said smartly, then strode off, complaining in high pitched, baby talk to the hounds about meanie pants commander-dads.    
  
Fox could only smile and shake his head.


	2. System Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for all the mando'a

Fox was breathing deeply, focusing on keeping calm as he stared down the Chancellor. “You say the failure in security was your fault, not these two who are alleged to have...drifted off on duty?”    
  
He knew what the punishment would be, and the two shinies were quivering in fear. “Yes, sir.” The Chancellor steepled his fingers, eyes narrowing. “Explain.” Fox resisted the urge to bite at the man, who always had set his instincts on edge, about how if they weren’t required to police an entire quadrant of Coruscant the troopers wouldn’t be falling asleep on duty, and went with a different approach.    
  
“I am their superior officer, all their actions are a direct result of me and my tutelage. These troopers are young, and inexperienced.” He shot them a look that to most outsiders would look like a glare, but his eyes were far too soft to be angry. “They will be suitably punished for their actions, but please sir, the main blame falls to me, and I shall shoulder the responsibilities.”    
  
“Take your helmets off, young ones.” The Chancellor got up, slowly striding down from the raised dias his desk is on. They obeyed shakily, standing next to each other. Fox looked them over, as he threw up heavy mental shields, hoping they extended to the pair. They were twins, mirrored brothers.    
  
Their names were Rawiri and Rua, and he had sworn to protect the rarities he’d had taken into the Guard, as he did with every last one of his ad’ike. As the war progressed, the Jedi fought for them, and demand for the tube grown soldiers grew as supply diminished, mutations were becoming more common. But the ginger hair and green eyes these two shared were so much rarer then the new normal, even rarer than his own ginger hair, since it was accompanied by warm amber brown eyes.    
  
They, for all intents and purposes, were identical. Both had tight braided locks close to their skulls, matching turquoise tattoos of aiwhas and tiny matching red ones of the Jedi Order symbol on their cheeks, and matching scars over one eye.    
  
The only difference was the mirroring. Hair parted on the opposite sides, left handedness versus right handedness, the scars on opposite eyes, and the reversed tattoos were the only way to tell them apart, at least, if you didn't know them based on their personalities.    
  
Right now, they met the Chancellor’s gaze, but quickly lowered their eyes to the floor. Out of respect, no, they didn’t respect any of the idiotic mindless politicians arguing as long as the rotation lasted and then some.    
  
Even Amidala had some interesting opinions on his vode and the war. No, what they were doing was solely out of fear for the man. The room ranks with darkness, even in the middle of the day. The blinds closed as he circled them.    
  
Fox closed his eyes when Palpatine said “You have proven that you are responsible, but so are they. You will all receive what punishment I see fit.” in a cruel tone.    
  
Then he blacked out.    
  
*****************************   
  
When he woke up, the shinies next to him had tear lined faces and bloody noses. The Chancellor was back to his desk, and none of them remembered what had happened, they only remembered pain, the same pain that burnt in their limbs and lungs even now, and the order not to tell anyone about their injuries.    
  
Fox inhaled deeply, he knew the routine. “Thank you, my Lord. Will that be all?” He asked the Chancellor, just as Generals Kenobi and Windu stepped in. The three, flinching away from the Jedi from some unknown reason, slammed their helmets back on their heads. Rua took a few steps away from the two, who shot concerned looks at them and each other before continuing to the seats at the base of the dias.    
  
The Chancellor waved his hand. “You may go, Commander.” Rawiri was the quickest to sink into a bow, which the Jedi found strange by the way their raised eyebrows shot up, the others quickly following. “Thank you, Chancellor.” Fox nodded at the Jedi, then the three made the quickest dignified exit they could.    
  
Fox’s kamas swished around his legs, the incredibly heavy blast proof leather forcing him to keep a straight back and have a slightly higher stepping strut to compensate for the weight. “Buir” whispered Rua “tio-...tion’jar?” He tripped over the mando’a, the young cadets hadn’t been taught the language of the Prime like the Command Classes had been.    
  
The simple question hurt Fox to the bone. He knew from Cody, Ponds, and many others, his classmates, his  _ batchmates _ , that the Jedi weren’t like this. Some of the lower ranking infantry and field assigned clones both despised him for and were jealous of his position, seeming to think they were living the good lives as glorified security guards.    
  
Very few clones, period, reported the Jedi behaving like this, ever. The enlisted nat officers had grumblings and whispers about them, but the one time Captain Solus of the 891st Airborne Division had accused the General, not a Jedi, no, never, of abusing and taking advantage of her troopers in all ways, Rex’s batchmate had been muzzled by the system and sent back to watch his soldiers suffer.    
  
It had been an object lesson that the rest of the GAR hadn’t forgotten.    
  
He looked Rua in the eye, not sure how to answer the question of why. Rawiri spoke up when he was quiet for a longer time then the trooper was willing to wait. “Tion’jar..kaysh kaden?” He hesitated only slightly, and Fox smiled, although it went hollow and then vanished quickly. “Ni dar’vaabir kar’taylir.” He murmured, shaking his head. He saw their eyes narrow, translating the last word, then coming close. Rua whispered “Ni cuy hut’uun.” Fox snapped his head up, and took off his helmet, took off the twins’, then pulled them into a side corridor.   
  
He pressed their foreheads to his, then watched as they pressed into each other. “Nayc, gar cuyir kotir, gar cuyir kovid, gar cuyir verd...a meh gar rucuyir hut'uun, gar ru'kel su cuyir ner ad.” He said softly. He ran a hand over the braids in their hair, kissing the tops of their heads. They were barely eight, they weren’t ready for this…   
  
Rawiri hugged his brother. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, vod’ika, bal gar, buir.” He says, affection lacing his voice, although pain did the same. Fox held them close, then took them to the barracks. He pulled them into his private quarters, or as everyone had quickly learned, the converted closet he regularly shared with at least two troopers, entirely on his own free will and desires.    
  
He looked around the small space with a little smile. This was home. A nest of blankets, pillows, pilfered fabrics, thrown out cushions, and more was under the loft in his room. Hound slept there most nights, because if he wasn’t sleeping near one of the Commander’s he had horrific nightmares. He wasn’t sleeping here tonight, and Thire was gone: he must be with Thorn, comforting the heavy gunner after a recent mission, a mission he didn’t remember, only that he had come back with almost every limb out of socket.    
  
The twins hadn’t been here before, and didn’t seem to have known what to expect. The high wardrobe at the foot of the bed held another suit of armor, extra blacks, and his dress greys, along with the high collared, decorated red outfit he’d been given while working undercover once.The dresser next to the desk under the bed contained paperwork, datapads, a filing system, but most importantly, hidden in a secret compartment in a hollow drawer backing, was a lot of contraband.    
  
Alcohol, drugs that he knew were safe enough, food of all sorts, sodas from local places, tapes and recordings of movies and videos, shampoos, lotions, colognes, really anything a trooper could want.    
  
The Guard’s Commanders’ each specialized in different varieties of contraband. It was a true pride, in all honesty.    
  
Fox turned to the boys,  _ his  _ boys. “Ni'll ve'ganir solus be te baar'ure.” They nodded, then hesitantly curled around each other in the nest, smelling Hound there and looking up to Fox as if to ask for permission. He snorted, and nodded. They’d wind up in his bed anyway, but his sons could rest there for now, if they wanted to.    
  
He held up his comlink to his mouth, saying quickly and urgently. “Ang'ika, t'ad ner ade veman te baar'ur! Olaror, iviin'yc, gedet'ye, val cuyir tal'galar jii! Te Chancellor gratiir ner kotir ade, val veman gaa'tayl jii!” The medic, Angel, responded with a quick “Elek, Al’verde!” before getting ready to report here, to treat his newest in a stream of patients and switching off his com.    
  
He knelt down by the twins’ sides. He ran his hand through Rawiri’s hair soothingly as Rua picked at the scabs forming over the gash on his face. They counted his freckles, wondering to themselves if they’d ever get them. “Gar cuyir morut'yc olar, buir cuyir olar, ni kelir cabuor gar.” He murmured to them softly, taking off his armor, and helping them do the same, the armor painted in the basic Coruscant Guard design, except for the mirrored red aurebesh that read “vode an” and the aiwhas on their helmets.    
  
Down to their blacks, blood and the smell of burnt flesh filled the room, as Angel stepped in, and settled next to them, his hair far longer than regulation allowed, but Fox let it slide as long as he could fit it under his helmet. He spoke soothingly, peeling away the blacks, kissing their foreheads even as they flinched away from being bared, respecting their limits and stopping.    
  
“Su cuy'gar, kih’vode, I’m Angel, and I’m here to help.” He listed off every action as he did it, already having memorized which side of things meant which twin. “I am going to run my hands over your whole body, Rua, to test your nervous response and to find any internal injuries.” Rua nodded, then cried out as he pressed a little too hard on his thigh.    
  
“May I look at your thigh, Rua? I will have to move aside your shorts to look there.” He murmured, soothingly rubbing his arm, already calculating what will be needed to treat the pair. “H-how?” Rua said, crossing his legs nervously. The Guard were some of the only clone members of the GAR that weren't comfortable with nudity: simply because far too many citizens, from senators to street dwelling scum tried to accost the troopers almost daily, attempting to harass them.    
  
“Rolling up the leg some.” He said, making eye contact. “You may refuse, or tell me to stop at any time, if you wish it.” Rua nodded slowly, and stretched out his leg. Angel looked over it. “That is some nasty bruising, Ru’ika, but you’re a strong one, you’ll be fine.” He rolled the leg back down, and finished his examination in a quick, clinical fashion.    
  
He moved to Rawiri, and looked at him. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need you to strip, if only for a moment.” He gestured to the electrical burns over the right side of his body. “I need to see how far down these go.” Rawiri nodded, allowing him to look, crying softly in pain as he kept his eyes focused on his twin and their father.    
  
Angel hissed. “Raw’ika, you’ll need bacta and you’ll need it very soon.” “A tank?” Fox questioned, his hard-edged, deep voice tinged with an Inner Core accent he had picked up over the time spent here. “Elek, Fo’buir.” Rawiri lowered his head, and started shaking again. “Will I be alright, ori’vod?” “‘Lek, ‘lek, kih’vod’ika, you’ll be perfectly fine. Me and Judge will keep a close eye on you, and Ru’ika can visit until you get out in a few days.” The medic ran a hand down his spine gently.    
  
Rawiri nodded, then allowed himself to be carried by Fox to the medbay, listening to the soft croons of the medic’s and Fox, mando’a’s lulling effect on him soon bringing him to a tesful sleep, then he was put in a bacta tank.    
  
  
Fox put a hand on Rua’s shoulder. “Kaysh kelir cuyir pirusti, ner ad. Ang'ika cuyir solus be te jatne baar'ure vi ganar.” He smiles, one of his own scars going up his neck. “Gar vod kelir cuyir jahaala bal tsikala par akaan tion'tuur kaysh nayc nuhoy, suvarir?” He questions the younger man, the eyes like the bottom of a natural creek when the sun hits them meeting those that looked as if they were the fine green jewels that graced dignataries from far and wide.    
  
  
“Elek, Fox'buir. Ni suvarir, Al'verde, bal ni kelir cabuor kaysh.” He acquiesces, dipping his head and then gets on a medical bed. Fox strokes his hand softly, then runs a finger along the bands holding the braids tightly together. “Udesii, my son. Rest, and go to sleep.” Rua’s eyes fluttered, then slid shut as Fox started humming the Vode An.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buir - parent, in this case father   
> Tion'jar - why   
> Tion'jar kaysh kaden - as close to"(why is he angry" as possible  
> Ni dar'vaabir kar'taylir - I don't know, or as close as possible.   
> Ni cuy hut'uun - I am (a) coward   
> Nayc, gar cuyir kotir, gar cuyir kovid, gar cuyir verd...a meh gar recuyir hut'uun, gar ru'kel su cuyir ner ad - no, you are brave, you are strong, you are (a) soldier...but if you were a coward, you would still be my son  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, vod'ika, bal gar, buir - I love you, dearest brother, and you, father  
> Ni'll ve'ganir solus be te baar'ure - I'll call one of the medics   
> Ang'ika, t'ad ner ade veman te baar'ur! Olaror, iviin'yc, gedet'ye, val cuyir tal'galar jii! Te Chancellor gratiir ner kotir ade, val veman gaa'tayl jii! - Ang'ika, two of my boys need the medic! Come, fast, please, they are bleed(ing) now! The Chancellor punish(ed) my brave boys, they need help now!  
> Elek, Al'verde! - Yes, Commander!  
> Gar cuyir morut'yc olar, buir cuyir olar, ni kelir cabuor gar- You are safe here, father is here, I will protect you  
> Su cuy'gar - hello   
> Kih'vod - little brother  
> Ori'vod - big brother  
> Kaysh kelir cuyir pirusti, ner ad. Ang'ika cuyir solus be te jatne baar'ure vi ganar. Gar vod kelir cuyir jahaala bal tsikala par akaan tion'tuur kaysh nayc nuhoy, suvarir? - he will be well, my son. Ang'ika is one of the best medics we have. You brother shall be healthy and ready for war when he no sleep (wakes up), understand?   
> Elek, Fox'buir. Ni suvarir, Al'verde, bal ni kelir cabuor kaysh - Yes, Papa Fox. I understand, Commander, and I shall protect him.


	3. Oh, Sweet Chaos

Rys snuck up behind Fox, who was talking with Jek and Thire, the careful steps of his purposely unbooted feet soundless. He lept after balancing on the balls of his feet, but Fox spun on his heels, kamas twirling around him, and caught him in midair, then spun him in a circle while chuckling, setting him down with a kiss to his forehead. “Well, Ry’ika, that may be a new record, ad’ika.”    
  
Rys, who had never been able to get his tongue to form anything more than vod and other affectionate terms, just smacked his shoulder. “I’m only a couple of weeks younger then you, Buir.” Fox’s eyes twinkled. “I know.” “Yet you twirled me like some two year old up in the air.”    
  
“You have to admit it, kih’vod” Jek said, nudging him in the ribs while Rys bristled lightly at the joke about his height “it is fun when Buir does that.” Thire was snickering, and Rys glared at him. “Laugh it up, Thi’ika. We’ll see if you’re still laughing when I release those photos of your first kiss to the GAR-”    
  
“You wouldn’t dare!” Hissed the Commander, recently promoted, and also recently kissed for the first time. “I would dare!” “Oh I’d like to see it-” Fox’s deep voice cut in between them, the Coruscanti accent getting more and more prominent daily, along with the cold edge in it around everyone but his ad’ike and vode. “Ad’ike, please be quiet. I have a headache after...whatever that last mission was.” Everyone went silent, not wanting to disappoint or hurt him.    
  
Fox walked by them, rubbing his forehead, before calling over his shoulder. “Ry’ika, Je’ika, I have an assignment for you two, Thire, put Tama and Abiik on patrol instead of them.” “Elek, Al’verde’buir.” Thire said, smoothing down his metaphorical hackles as Fox remembers something else.    
  
“Oh, send a message to Commander Maia, tell her that we picked up Lieutenant Roimata and one of their new ad Rangi in the streets last night, they’re in the drunk tank so the fetch squad knows where to find them.” Thire nods again, as the two requested men looked at each other then trotted after the Commander.    
  
“What do you need, Buir?” Jek asked, fingers twitching around an imaginary trigger. “Is it a kidnapping?” “Security detail?” “Busting a gang?” Fox chuckled, and put his hands on their heads, the slightly coarse fabric of the blacks rubbing up against their skin. “Neither.” He led them to the barracks, then nodded at the newest batch of shinies.    
  
“Babysitting duty?” Rys groaned, then looked at Fox, who had a very disappointed expression. “Ry’ika, don’t you want to help your new vode?” “Well…” “They’re new, and some of them are scared. Do you want that?” “I mean, no-” Fox smiles and presses his forehead to his. “Then please go help with them.” He looked at Jek, who was glowering. “Take Rua and Rawiri too, they haven’t been able to experience the best treats of the city yet.”    
  
Fox’s eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief as he handed over a pouch of credits. “You know the usual places, of course.” “Yes, Al’verde’buir.” Jek said with a nod, clipping it to his belt. “And you know Thaw And Order is giving away some free things to those who show official military ID?” “I didn’t, sir, does this offer extend to-” “Elek, ad’ika.” Fox says with a smile. “I know Lelah, she wouldn’t turn away one of us.”    
  
Rys sighs dramatically, turning his attention on the group of twelve identical, hot off the press shinies, with the exception of one with a singular blue eye. “I’m seeing if I can find ways to get them to be less matchy matchy soon.” Fox clapped him on the shoulder in approval. “You do that, I’m going to go take a nap.” Everyone snorted, knowing full well he’d get three steps away before he was called to do something.    
  
Rys and Jek nodded at him, then walked into the room. “Alright, shape up, kih’vode, up, up, up!” Jek said, crossing his arms as he looked at the group, who scrambled to their feet and stood at attention.    
  
Him and Rys paraded in front of them. “Names, now, kih’vode, numbers if you don’t have names. Fox’buir wants to know because he’s a great father and I want to know so if you fall to your death I can put your name on the incident report.” He continued in his best command voice, which wasn’t a very good one.    
  
The one with a blue eye stepped forward. “I’m Blueeye, sir.” “For obvious reasons.” Said another one of the whiteskulls, nudging him forward. They listened as the others rattled off their names, only three others had them though, which made it easier for now.    
  
“Newton.” Said one, almost lazily and definitely bored, as he leaned back on his heels. “Physic.” Declared a bright eyed shiny, excited and bouncing on his heels. “They call me Strategy.” A slighter smaller one, with the youngest face of them all, spoke up, his tone somewhat nervous.   
  
“Alright, shoot off the numbers, kids.” After listening to the number based nicknames, they fetched the ginger twins, who quickly became objects of awe and curiosity. “Whoa, look at that!” “It’s so pretty, and oh, Force, look at their eyes, they’re so  _ green _ !” Rua backed away slowly, until he hit Jek’s chestplate.    
  
Rawiri, standing in the center of the crowd, was living for the attention, puffing out his chest and strutting like he had kamas on, following closely after Rys and Jek who led the chaotic group out to the gates. “Form up, stay quiet, helmets on, eyes down. Civvies don’t like us, the ones who do aren’t here, and the ones who like us a little too much could be anywhere.” Rys ran down the list of checks and regulations quickly, before settling as the leader of the column, Jek dropping to be a rearguard.    
  
Nats glare at them from all directions. Blueeye’s armor gets coated in a bunch of black tar out of seemingly nowhere, and Jek gives a tired lecture on damaging Republic property. Rys gets called out by some nat who had something stolen. It takes a while, but eventually, they get to where they were going in the first place: Thaw And Order, Lelah’s Diner And More.    
  
Rua and Rawiri looked around curiously, mouths already watering at the smells wafting out of the small kitchen. “What’s going on here?” Said a strong female voice, and a muscular alien, with all black eyes and stalks extending from her purple skinned head, appeared in front of them.    
  
“Hey, Lelah.” Jek greeted, winking at her. “Good ol’ Buir sent us down with the fresh meat, gotta initiate them.” She winked back, and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he turned bright red. “Oh, I know what you’re here for then.” Rys whistled jokingly, and Jek nearly decked him. “Watch it, kih’vod!”    
  
“Nah, I don’t think I will.” He led the shinies to the biggest table they had, then set up his com in the middle of the table as Lelah launched who knows how many bad ice cream related pick up lines at his increasingly flushed brother.    
  
Rua and Rawiri sat close to each other, murmuring and giggling over some joke one or the other had made, while Blueeye picked at the tar stuck to his armor next to them. Rys smiled at the group, already puffing up with pride as Spoon, named that as of three minutes ago, explained all the parts and functions of LAAT/i gunships.    
  
A tap on the window behind them got Rys’s attention, and he snorted as he saw Fox lowering himself from the roof, clearly having just finished responding to a call. He signed out the window at him  _ hey sir _ , getting the response of  _ hey, my child _ back as he settled on the ground. The shinies swung their heads around to see what he was looking at, but Fox had already started making his way towards the door.    
  
They looked around at each other, shrugged, then turned their attention back to the conversations they’d been having. Strategy nervously tapped the table, his eyes fixed on the floor, humming softly as he fidgeted. Rys puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, vod’ika?” “Oh, uh, yes sir, I’m fine sir.” He looks up, scooting away from the older clone unconsciously.    
  
“Rigggghhhhttt, and General Ti is Dooku in drag. Spill, vod’ika.” He pressed his forehead to his, and the young man seemed a little surprised to get affection, before pressing back. “Well, uh...Rys, sir...I’m the youngest here, all the others are so much older...forget it, it’s not important-” He tries to pull away, but Rys keeps a firm hold on the back of his neck, stomach sinking at the confirmation of his thoughts.    
  
Another voice broke in before Rys could ask the same question it asked. “How old are you, ad’ika? Strategy, is it, ner ad?” Fox sat beside him, crossing one leg over the other. “Seven and a half, sir.” Fox’s expression went dark, filling with anger. “I see.” His facial expression softens, and he presses his forehead to his, then speaks behind him quickly. “Ry’ika, ve'ganir te ade skraan bal pirur, ni kelir cuyir norac.” He stared blankly back. “Basic, Buir, please.”    
  
Fox sighed dramatically, already getting up. “Get the children food and drink, I will be back.” Rys nodded as Jek sat down, eyes dazed and his face covered in blue lipstick markings. “Did you and Lelah hit it off?” Fox asked, chuckling. “Huh.” Was all Jek could say, and somewhat shy snickers broke out from the shinies.    
  
Fox snorted and shook his head, starting for the door. “I am taking that as an ‘elek, Buir.’” “Huh.” Was again Jek’s only response, as the scarred older clone made his way out of the building. Before their eyes, he saluted casually after he put on his helmet, then balanced on a rail...and to the shinies’ cries and jumping out of their seats, he fell backwards, surely to his death-    
  
Rua, Rawiri and Blueeye sent panicked gazes at Rys, who was cackling airlessly. Once he gained his breath, he pointed at the red and white armored figure leaping off a freighter ship then scuttling up the side of a tower.    
  
The shinies’ jaws dropped to the floor, and Jek manually closed them for a few of them. “It’s called parkour, vod’ike, and if you want to live longer than a few seconds around here you’ll get good at it and get good at it quick.” He explained, kicking his feet up on the table before the waiter droid bearing their order sent the closest thing to a death glare it could manage at him.    
  
It placed the food on the table with a mechanical huff, then walked away, muttering about how unruly the young soldiers were as it headed to the next table. Spoon poked at one of the dishes, and all of them gave it distrustful looks, even as their mouths watered at the smells. Rys snorted, and started cutting up the greasy meat.    
  
“It won’t bite, you lot.” Jek said, already popping blue milk cheese sticks into his mouth. They looked around at each other, then started slowly munching on whatever they could reach. Spoon’s eyes popped out of his skull when he tasted one of the fruit flavored gelatin cubes, and he quickly wolfed down several more, showing no signs of stopping, so Rys confiscated the bow with a short bark of a laugh, sounding strangely like one of the foxes a few senators kept as pets.   
  
“Ah, Spoo’ika, don’t eat all of them, leave some for the others.” He pushed a bowl of ice cream at him with an evil grin, Jek mirroring it. “Try that instead.” The shiny eagerly grabbed a spoon and immediately bit into it. They saw his face transform as he clutched his head and whimpered. “Brain freeze.” Jek said simply, before biting into a hunk of dripping, fatty meat.    
  
“It hurts.” He whined, gripping his temples more. “You should never bite into ice cream, kiddo.” Lelah said, dropping by the table to refill cups of juice, chuckling to herself. Jek immediately flushed at the sight of her and ducked his head, running a hand over his chin.    
  
Rys snorted, and kicked him in the shin. “Hey, vod, be careful, your eyes might pop out.” “Oh shut up, Ry’ika.” He hissed, trying to look more dignified then he really was, with the shinies watching on curiously. Lelah only snorted, and walked off after planting a chaste kiss to Blueeye’s forehead and ruffling his hair, leaving him to short circuit for a couple of seconds to the giggles and jealous noises of the group.    
  
“Uhhhhh.” “What?” “Kiss….” Rys wheezed. “Yep, it was.” He slapped a hand on his shoulder, then turned to one of the other shinies, dramatically sighing. “Fo’buir is going to kill me, but come on, lunch is over.” Jek shot his head up and said warningly. “Ry’ika, ner di’kut’ika, ner vod’ika, what are you planning?” The smirk that came up when the question was asked did nothing to assuage Jek’s belief in coming mischief being eminent.    
  
“Parkour 101.” He said simply, helped the shinies clear and wipe down the table, had the rest of the food sent to the barracks (along with a massive supply of leftovers from the previous day that Lelah couldn’t sell), then walked out the door with his gaggle in tow.    
  
They jumped on board a subway line, and he murmured to the others through the helmet coms. “Don’t look too intimidating, if possible, but look like we have somewhere we need to be, stat.” The nods and affirmations came out from the speakers, and he settled in for the two hour ride to the industrial zone, clinging to a rail.    
  
They stepped off the subway when it arrived, the nats onboard glaring at them or shifting away uncomfortably. They walked down a street crowded with workers getting back from the long factory shifts, but were halted by another group of Guards. Their armor was the same red, but more creativity was clearly allowed, and it was scoured with acid marks and stained with multicolored chemical remnants.    
  
A soldier in a pair of kamas and ARC pauldrons pulled off his helmet. The shinies blinked at the scars from acid burns and the far darker skin of the clone, curiously eying the Guard red tattoos that traced over all his prominent bone structures.    
  
“Su cuy’gar, Upper Left. What are you doing in the Heavy Metal Zone?” He questioned, eyes tracing over the shiny, bare white armor of most of the group, although he nodded at the small markings that distinguished Rys’s and Jek’s armor from other Guards. “Ah, I see. Did Fo’ika send you away for a break from the Chakaar?” A clank of plastoid came from behind them, and Fox rested his hand on Newton’s shoulder.    
  
“No, but I know what they’re doing here, Ietepere.” He replied evenly, ignoring the shinies jumps and noises of surprise. The other Commander grinned and waited for Fox to remove his helmet before headbutting him fiercely, sending them both reeling and laughing. Ietepere grabbed Fox’s shoulder, smiling. “You look terrible.” “So do you.” Fox replied, before falling into line with his ade.    
  
“So” Jek said, sidling up to him “where did you go, Buir?” “Let us just say Burtoni will be very uncomfortable any time she wants to wear any of her clothing within the next few weeks.” He replied calmly, nudging at their shoulders as a helmets-off signal before they climbed up a long staircase, to the roof of what appeared to be an old industrial complex, but was revealed to be a well hidden barracks as a tank strolled out for repairs.    
  
Blueeye cast his glance around excitedly, while Rua gagged at the amount of chemicals surging through the air. An obstacle course had been set up, clearly for the exact parkour based lessons they’d be doing. Already some groups were jumping off of high platforms, scrabbling down seemingly smooth walls, swinging off the arms of rusted out construction machines, and leaping impossible distances between barrels and stacks of equipment.    
  
Ietepere looked down proudly as a medic approached, grumbling about idiots landing wrong when they jumped out of ships, pulling off his helmet to reveal a side shaven sweep of hair, falling around a haunted, dark face, decorated by red flower tattoos and scarred with the same acid burns as the Commander. 

  
“Kia ora, Mesh’la.” Ietepere intoned calmly. “Kei a matou nga tamariki maui o runga hei ako i nga taura.” His eyes shone as he put his helmet back on, and waved as he walked off. “Kaua e mamae ki a ratou, rongoa ratou i te mea e hiahiatia ana, kaua hoki ratou e whakamatea ina mahi ratou i nga mahi kuware, taku tama rongoa!” He called as he began his descent down, and the tattooed medic called back “Ka patua ratou e ahau, ki te pai ahau, e te Rangatira-papa!” with a fierce grin on his face.    
  
All the shinies turned to Jek and Rys, having already established themselves to be their new ori’vode and cabur, for a translation, but they just shrugged. They knew about the lilting old language and traditions that a lot of the other Quadrants had adopted, but they had been more focused on staying alive, not offended senators, and learning their own culture and language to figure out another on top of mando’a. Fox, seeing the looks, ruffled 3481-49’s hair and provided an abridged translation. “Essentially, he said to keep an eye on us and not to kill us if we did anything stupid.”    
  
“Ae, Rangatira Fox.’ The medic had joined the group after sanitizing his hands and pulling his gloves back on. “Rangatira-papa Ietepere thinks I like to murder in cold blood, which is true only some of the time.” He chuckles, shaking his head. He gestures out at the course. “So, learning the ropes? I thought you Upper Left types had the best facilities.” Fox huffed. “A side effect of them being in the middle of the Republic eye is that nothing unseemly, dirty, or reminding of our place in their society beyond mindless drones can be there.”    
  
The Commander tests a rope with his weight, and nods as he swings himself around it, still continuing the conversation. “People,  _ real  _ people, might start getting a conscience then, or more likely want to get rid of the unsightly mars on their penthouse balconies.” He climbed up, using his thighs to clamp on and get higher.    
  
Once he reaches the top, he looks down, jumps, rolls, and stands up in front of Blueeye and Spoon, patting them on the head as his ginger and silver curls fall in tussles around his face, a youthful smile gracing his features. “Parkour facilities, at least ones with realistic obstacles, count as unsightly.”    
  
Mesh’la snorts, and rolls his eyes. “Good for us, we only have a few factory owners occasionally upset that we shot up their products.” “Must be nice.” Rawiri said, stretching as he eyed a stretch of rope near a giant wrecked hulk of a builder droid, the mountain sized robotic beings responsible for the constructing of the highest towers in Coruscant, back before the planet no longer had anywhere for them to put their wheels and struts down.    
  
Fox saw him eying it, and nodded. “Be free, my children. Have fun, get some practice in.” He smiles as the shinies took off towards the easier obstacles, secretly relieved this lot has more than three brain cells between them and understood risk assessment.    
  
Rys and Jek hung back for a few seconds. “Buir, can we have Blueeye and Strategy?” Jek asked, eyes pleading. “Aliit and Rabble have been wanting to transfer to be under Thire directly, since he’s their batchmate and all.” Rys added, smiling hopefully. Fox chuckles, and nods. “Gotten attached, have you?” He said once their cheers die down. “Maybe just a little.” They say in stereo before taking off to find their new vod’ike.    
  
Fox smiles, and leans back on his heels as he supervises. Mesh’la turns to him, eyes narrowed as he hands him a data cylinder. “Rangatira-papa says to give this to you, and that you can't breathe a word of what’s on it to anyone.” Fox smiles, and takes it. “I know what this is, and I won’t.”    
  
Fox started down towards the barracks after watching the video a few hours later, when his ad’ike were finishing up with the parkour lesson. Three nat children, identical twi’leks and all the same age, all recently treated by the medics with remnants of black eyes and broken bones evident, waited for him, along with a single shiny who gnawed on a lower lip anxiously.    
  
He faced the shiny first. “Su cuy’gar, Chava, correct?” She nodded as an answer, signing her CT number. “Iete’ika wants me to get you out because you’re slated for decommission, because you were discovered by a nat superior to be mute, caused in an accident in a chemical plant, right?” His tone was soft and gentle as he laid a hand on her shoulder. “How did that happen?” She signed that he had asked her for an oral report, and when she did what she had to do the same for clone superious, presented a video, signed, and used recordings of other vode’s voices at appropriate places.    
  
Her head hung low as she communicated that he didn’t like that by swinging her palm as if she planned to backhand herself, and sniffled softly as Fox hugged her, then knelt to be on eye level with the nat kids, who seemed more awed than anything as they excitedly chattered and poked at his hair, helmet, kamas, and the antenna on his shoulder.    
  
He went to pick one up, but she recoiled from his hands, and he smiled softly, pulling his hands away. “Hello, ad’ike. What are your names?” The girls stood as close they could manage, and the two on the sides looked to the one in the middle, who sighed and straightened her back.    
  
“I’m Akilah Semirah, and these are my numa, Nuha and Layla.” She said, her eyes shining with caution and the will to fight. “Papa Iete saved us from our foster mommy, he says you’ll take good care of us, and we’ll live with other kids in a nice big place with lots of food.” She seemed to be around the clone accelerated age of six, so she must be twelve, normal aging. Her big blue eyes were the only things distinguishing her at first glance from the other two.    
  
Nuha’s were green and Layla’s yellow, the round, frightened eyes shining out from the orange-pink skin of the girls. He gestures for them to follow him after handing them all cloaks, and they slip out into the streets.    
  
Once they pile into a transport that Fox had brought here, the new shinies stared at the new member of the group and the triplets. “Um” Physic said, blinking “we didn’t have those to start with, did we, Fo’buir?” “No, we did not. They’ll be going to a system of rooms and walkways we have under the barracks, until we can find an occupation for a mute sister and maybe a family for these girls.” He turned his head to the younger clone, who has a patch of dirt and who knows what else on his face, and tried to clean it off but he batted his hand away.    
  
“Leave it, Buir.” He smiled shyly. “I want to get it tattooed on.” Fox smiles back, and presses his forehead to his. “Of course, Pys’ika.” Newton and Spoon were bickering over who had been better at the leaping jumps, while Rua and Rawiri excitedly compared tactics with Strategy as Jek and Rys looked on happily.    
  
Fox smiled more as he leaned against the wall.    
  
His ade were coming home. 


	4. Your Death Shall Be Art

Bail Organa was catching his breath alone in a cloister, the blaster in his hand still smoking as the firing of weapons died down.    
  
The clone guards move quickly by, but they all halt as the sound of slapping leather against thigh armor and the pound of booted feet tears down the halls.    
  
He recognizes the manner of walk and speech of Commander Fox, the man surely speaking on coms. After a while the clone slumps in relief, before comming someone frantically, getting more and more panicked until he rips off his helmet and screeches in a decidedly inner core mando’a blend of an accent at the wristlink.    
  
“Ru’ika! Ra’ika! Answer!!” He demanded, the normal icy edge of his tone lost as Bail takes in the site of him. The messy fall of naturally ginger curls streaked with silver is the highlight, and his face is lined with small wrinkles, which Bail notes look strange on a 25 year old face. His eyes have bags like he hasn’t slept in weeks, he has scars like lightning poking out from the neck of the undersuit worn under his armor, and hyponeedle marks from the stims he seems to be running off of.    
  
The other Guards slip away, and Bail steps out of his hiding place. Fox targets him, mad with fear. “I assigned them to you, to protect you! Where are they, Senator!?” He boomed, spitting out the last word like a curse, as he approached at a rapid pace.    
  
He crowds his space, and Bail feels intimidated even though he is several inches taller and built similarly to the spitting mad, deadly clone, the dark skin of the commander darkening further in anger as his tone went lethally cold. “Where are my ade, Senator?” Bail met his eyes, understanding now why he was so agitated as he mentally translated the mando’a.    
  
He’d heard rumors of the so-called aliit command structure from clone commanders and nonclone military officers, mixed in with their sneers, but he hadn’t had it confirmed, until now. He bowed his head slightly, in deference almost. “They stayed behind to cover my retreat, Al’verde’buir Fox.” The ginger haired clone narrowed his eyes, but a small smile quirked the corners of his lips up at the title.    
  
“Gar jorhaa’ir mando’a?” “Not very well, I’m afraid. I understand it spoken far better than I can speak it.” He replied diplomatically. “I can lead you to where I last saw your ade, if desired.” “Do it Senator, please.” He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, and Bail laid a gentle hand on his shoulder before going back through the rubble, hiking up the knee length tunic he wore as he cursed his outfit choice.    
  
The clone commander leaped up and grabbed bars protruding from the ceiling, exposed as the duracrete crumbled in the wake of the explosion, swinging from them and hopping from piece of rubble to piece of rubble once those ran out.    
  
Bail picked his way through, coughing as the dust irritated his lungs. He reached where he had left them when they had sent him away, encouraging him to run with grim smiles seen through cracked helmets and the urging of them telling him he was worth more than the entire Guard would ever be.    
  
Fox saw the limp forms first, one lying on the ground with blaster shots riddling his armor, the other dashed against a wall and his blood still slowly dripping into a macabre puddle around his body. The Commander let out an agonized cry and knelt by the one dripping blood, frantically checking for the ginger’s pulse, meeting the glazed over green eyes of the young man.    
  
Once he found his attempts to be futile, the heart stopped, the skin of the corpse of Rawiri pale with lack of blood and the death pallor he sobbed, pressing his forehead to his and closing his eyes with all the deep sorrow of a father who had outlived his child.    
  
Bail laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I am deeply sorry. If there’s anything I can do…” He trailed off, as Fox turned soft, tearfilled eyes at him. The deep wells of amber brown, flecked with gold, captured his attention fully. “Don’t let him be forgotten.” Bail nodded, then took a few steps back as Fox went to the other, no doubt to repeat the mournful acts.    
  
But as he gently stroked the face of Rua, his dear ad’ika, the man; although in truth, to Bail’s eyes, he seemed an all too young boy as he remembered that when he was the same age he was getting into the mischief young teens were wont to do, and he cut off that thought before he could begin to question his own morality in supporting the Republic’s clone army yet again; took a deep shuddering breath, and his green eyes opened slowly.    
  
Fox let out a wordless cry of thanks and ecstatic joy to the sky, seen through the hole torn in the ceiling, the artificial night glimmering with stars as he sent out a praise to whatever god or goddess or turn of fate or twist of the Force had granted him the small mercy of one of his dear twin ade being still among the land of the living, even as his vod marched away.    
  
“Ru’ika, ner ad’ika, ner ad’ika, I am here, I am here now, Buir is here.” He whispered soothingly to him, kissing his cheeks and forehead. Bail smiled softly, before helping Fox remove the shattered armor he wore, humbled by the trust placed in him by the Commander as he had the Senator hold the head of his ad’ika in his lap, a firm rock in the world as he cut away the melted plastoid.    
  
Rua whimpered and gasped in pain, grabbing on to the arm of his buir when the blaster shot holes were cleaned and had bacta patches applied. After a few moments of recovering, he sat up slowly, and held his chest, face twisted in the deep emotional agony of loss as he met Fox’s eyes. “Ner Buir, ner vod’ika?” Fox turned his head away slightly and shook it.    
  
The numb nod was a confirmation of sorts of what the clone already seemed to know. His brother was marched on, and tonight, another name would be added to the list of the recited remembrance.    
  
**********************   
  
Bail made sure the young clone was laid in state as a hero of the Republic on Alderaan, despite the protests of the Chancellor and no few senators and dignitaries, not the least among which was Halle Burtoni of Kamino.    
  
Their arguments were that he was merely doing his duty, but Bail had merely gestured at the monument devoted to a recently departed to the realm of the dead Jedi Knight and her Fleet Admiral outside the Senate building and said that he would follow Alderaan’s traditions, regardless of what they said.    
  
He approached Fox and Rua, who stood outside the small marble crypt, and thought hard about his position of power and relative complicity in the war.    
  
The clones turned to him, and nodded. “Thank you.” They said in stereo, before going towards the ship that would take them back to Coruscant.    
  
Bail watched them go, and sighed softly, before going inside to finish reading over the drafts of the Clone Rights Bill his friend Padme Amidala had forwarded him just an hour ago, no doubt inspired in part by the recent events.    
  
  
**********************   
  
Fox held Rua close that first night back from Alderaan, allowing him to sleep in his bunk with him.    
  
He didn’t have the heart to tell him about his whimper of his brother’s name deep in the night the next morning.    


**Author's Note:**

> Ad'ike - children   
> Kadala - wounded   
> Elek - yes   
> Al'verde - Commander  
> Ruus'alor - Sergeant   
> Kaysh veman tayl'ud - as close as I can get to "he needs a nap"  
> Slanar - go   
> Tion'jar - why?   
> Fo'buir - Papa Fox  
> Chayaikar - teasing


End file.
